daughter.”
Kophamel was pleased to see Borghese stiffen at the mention of Mendoza’s daughter.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she? Aurora, isn’t it? Shame to let such a pretty girl go to waste. I’ll probably have some fun with her first before I throw her to the
wolves. Some of my men are not double veterans yet.”
Borghese suddenly started laughing, which was the exact opposite reaction to the one that Kophamel had expected.
“What are you laughing about, Borghese? You are about to die.”
“So are you, Kophamel…” Borghese smiled.
“What… what do you mean?”
“Look inside the briefcase…”
Kophamel opened the briefcase that Borghese had been carrying. The blood drained rapidly from the Nazi’s face. “Oh shit.”
The massive explosion instantly killed Kophamel and the dying Borghese, and ripped apart Ramirez and the bodies of the five SS stormtroopers. The force of the blast was so
powerful that it destroyed the concrete pillars in the toilets that supported the three floors above. The rooms situated directly above the toilets plummeted to the ground in a massive cloud of
smoke and dust, and the impact killed and wounded the occupants of the dozen or so bedrooms.
“I’m glad to see that you’re alive and kicking and in one piece, Hauptwachtmeister Bratge,” General-Major Christian von Schnakenberg said with a smile
as he welcomed Bratge into his office.
“Well, I’m alive, sir, but I’m not so sure about kicking,” Sergeant Major Jakob Bratge replied jovially.
“So, Hauptwachtmeister, what’s your appreciation of the King Alfred Hotel incident?” von Schnakenberg asked as he steepled his fingers on his desk.
“Well, sir, the Fire Brigade said that the explosion was caused by a bomb, and their conclusion has been confirmed by our own Army engineers.”
“No attempt to blame the deaths on faulty wiring this time?”
“No, sir. Not this time.” Bratge shook his head.
“Casualties?”
“The hospital took delivery of twelve casualties, sir. The bodies of two SS officers, one Army officer, one Navy officer and four women. One SS officer, one Army officer and two women were
wounded and are presently in Intensive Care. It’s touch and go whether they’ll make it or not, sir.”
“Six dead and another six who may well also die,” von Schnakenberg said grimly. “Quite a butcher’s bill. Anything else that I should know about?”
“Yes, sir.” Bratge nodded his head. “Our sources have informed us that another six SS NCOs are missing and their bodies have not been found.”
Von Schnakenberg did not delve any further into the identity of “our sources”. He knew that there were Army spies buried deep in the SS, just as he was fully aware that their
brothers in arms also had spies in the Army and most probably in his own Brigade.
“The missing men were in the hotel?”
“Yes, sir. Our sources report that at the moment of the explosion they were all in the toilet.”
“In the toilet?” Von Schnakenberg asked incredulously. “All at the same time? What were they all doing? I know that the SS are great fans of the Spartans, but is this not
taking their love of all things Greek a bit far?”
Bratge examined his notes carefully. “Our sources do not give any indication that the missing men are suspected homosexuals, sir…”
“I’m only joking, Bratge!” Von Schnakenberg shook his head in wonder at the Sergeant Major’s gullibility.
Bratge blushed in embarrassment. “There’s something else, sir…”
“What is it?” Von Schnakenberg was intrigued. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Jakob.”
“Two men entered the hotel claiming to be Bolivians, sir, but they weren’t; they were Spaniards.”
“How do you know that they were Spaniards, Hauptwachtmeister? Did they have the appropriate IDs?”
“Their IDs appeared to be genuine, sir. But I don’t know. I have no idea what genuine Bolivian ID papers look like. But the men were definitely not
Kophamel was pleased to see Borghese stiffen at the mention of Mendoza’s daughter.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she? Aurora, isn’t it? Shame to let such a pretty girl go to waste. I’ll probably have some fun with her first before I throw her to the
wolves. Some of my men are not double veterans yet.”
Borghese suddenly started laughing, which was the exact opposite reaction to the one that Kophamel had expected.
“What are you laughing about, Borghese? You are about to die.”
“So are you, Kophamel…” Borghese smiled.
“What… what do you mean?”
“Look inside the briefcase…”
Kophamel opened the briefcase that Borghese had been carrying. The blood drained rapidly from the Nazi’s face. “Oh shit.”
The massive explosion instantly killed Kophamel and the dying Borghese, and ripped apart Ramirez and the bodies of the five SS stormtroopers. The force of the blast was so
powerful that it destroyed the concrete pillars in the toilets that supported the three floors above. The rooms situated directly above the toilets plummeted to the ground in a massive cloud of
smoke and dust, and the impact killed and wounded the occupants of the dozen or so bedrooms.
“I’m glad to see that you’re alive and kicking and in one piece, Hauptwachtmeister Bratge,” General-Major Christian von Schnakenberg said with a smile
as he welcomed Bratge into his office.
“Well, I’m alive, sir, but I’m not so sure about kicking,” Sergeant Major Jakob Bratge replied jovially.
“So, Hauptwachtmeister, what’s your appreciation of the King Alfred Hotel incident?” von Schnakenberg asked as he steepled his fingers on his desk.
“Well, sir, the Fire Brigade said that the explosion was caused by a bomb, and their conclusion has been confirmed by our own Army engineers.”
“No attempt to blame the deaths on faulty wiring this time?”
“No, sir. Not this time.” Bratge shook his head.
“Casualties?”
“The hospital took delivery of twelve casualties, sir. The bodies of two SS officers, one Army officer, one Navy officer and four women. One SS officer, one Army officer and two women were
wounded and are presently in Intensive Care. It’s touch and go whether they’ll make it or not, sir.”
“Six dead and another six who may well also die,” von Schnakenberg said grimly. “Quite a butcher’s bill. Anything else that I should know about?”
“Yes, sir.” Bratge nodded his head. “Our sources have informed us that another six SS NCOs are missing and their bodies have not been found.”
Von Schnakenberg did not delve any further into the identity of “our sources”. He knew that there were Army spies buried deep in the SS, just as he was fully aware that their
brothers in arms also had spies in the Army and most probably in his own Brigade.
“The missing men were in the hotel?”
“Yes, sir. Our sources report that at the moment of the explosion they were all in the toilet.”
“In the toilet?” Von Schnakenberg asked incredulously. “All at the same time? What were they all doing? I know that the SS are great fans of the Spartans, but is this not
taking their love of all things Greek a bit far?”
Bratge examined his notes carefully. “Our sources do not give any indication that the missing men are suspected homosexuals, sir…”
“I’m only joking, Bratge!” Von Schnakenberg shook his head in wonder at the Sergeant Major’s gullibility.
Bratge blushed in embarrassment. “There’s something else, sir…”
“What is it?” Von Schnakenberg was intrigued. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Jakob.”
“Two men entered the hotel claiming to be Bolivians, sir, but they weren’t; they were Spaniards.”
“How do you know that they were Spaniards, Hauptwachtmeister? Did they have the appropriate IDs?”
“Their IDs appeared to be genuine, sir. But I don’t know. I have no idea what genuine Bolivian ID papers look like. But the men were definitely not
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